


When You're Older

by Deflare



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Aromantic Frosta, Asexual Frosta, Frosta is a cool aunt, Gen, Mermista and Sea Hawk are Messy, Mermista/Sea Hawk - Freeform, Scorpia/Perfuma - Freeform, Unintentional acephobia, Unintentional arophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deflare/pseuds/Deflare
Summary: Frosta was never interested in romance the way other people her age were. Everyone told her she would feel differently when she got older.She didn't.
Relationships: Frosta & Mermista (She-Ra), Frosta & Micah (She-Ra), Frosta & Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	When You're Older

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Discussion of sex and sexuality; Discussion of becoming parents; Unintentional acephobia; Unintentional arophobia  
> I'm ace, but not aro. I have done my best to portray Frosta with authenticity and respect. If I goofed up, please let me know.

When You’re Older

**Eleven (and three quarters)**

Maintaining the ballroom of the Hardpack Palace was a careful balancing act. The floors needed to be polished smooth enough to shine and impress, but not so smooth that dancers slipped and fell. The temperature needed to be kept warm enough for guests’ comfort, but cold enough to avoid melting. There needed to be enough finely-carved decorations to impress, but not so many that the ballroom felt cluttered and claustrophobic.

The Kingdom of Snows was home to a number of experts who helped maintain this balance, normally coming through twice a year to keep the palace in working order. This was a special occasion, though. The Hardpack Palace would host the Princess Prom for the first time in over a century. Some of the kingdoms that had previously played host to the festivities no longer existed. The kingdom’s prestige was on the line, and its status as a nation both too remote and too powerful to be worth dragging into the war between the Horde and the Rebellion. So the experts had been called in early to make sure the palace was perfect, supported by the finest Snowvian ice-sculptors making brand new decorations to impress and delight.

At the heart of the efforts to prepare for the ball, of course, was a key asset, a single person fundamental to the very existence of the Kingdom of Snows’ capital: The young princess Frosta.

“Another six inches up!” the head decorator called from his place near the entrance. Frosta obliged, the frozen pillar shifting under her hand as it grew, raising the banner tied to its top. “Perfect!” He leapt forward, letting his feet slide across the frozen floor with the natural grace that most Snowvians developed when moving across ice. “I must say, your Majesty, you are quite adept at this.”

“Thanks, Simo,” Frosta answered as she walked with him to their next destination, though she paid little attention to his words. She was used to compliments from the adults in her life; they were part and parcel of being a princess, especially one who had become ruler of a kingdom so young. It was hard to take them seriously as anything other than subjects currying favor.

Simo seemed to notice her disregard. “I’m being serious,” he said gently. “I worked with your mother. She was skilled in frostcrafting, yes, but she wasn’t a natural. Not the way you are. You are really quite—”

He shut his mouth when Frosta shot him a glare. Comparisons to her mother were also part of her life. She appreciated them even less than empty compliments.

They worked in stiff quiet for the rest of the hour, Frosta adjusting where Simo directed. It was mindless work for her, the ice eagerly leaping to her will. Half the work she did, the head decorator couldn’t even see, as she shored up groaning pillars with invisible cracks hidden deep within, or locked down tiny drips before they could grow in to structure-threatening trickles. She could feel the texture and depth of the ice the same way she could feel the fur lining of her coat and the cold air in her lungs. Had it spoken to her mother in the same way?

Mother hadn’t told her before her passing. So Frosta would never know.

What she did know was that this prom had to be perfect. If the powers of Etheria came here and decided that the Kingdom of Snows had grown weak under is child princess, then it would be impossible to stay out of the war. To keep her people to safe. To fulfill her parents’ last wish.

“The final step is to frost the view into the private rooms.”

“Wait.” She was forcibly pulled out of her reverie by the direction. They were at the back corners of the ballroom now, past where the banquet would be hosted and near the discrete hallway to the restrooms. “Why are we doing that? Why do we even have private rooms?”

Simo looked at her in surprise. “Well, it’s a ball, your Highness,” he said, as if that answered anything. “People will want private spaces.”

“Okay, first, having walls of transparent or decorated ice is half the decorative appeal of the palace,” Frosta said, “and that means having all the refractive surfaces working together to filter moonlight into the ballroom the right way—and the back rooms are part of that system. Second, and more importantly, that seems like a huge security risk. Shouldn’t we be able to keep an eye on the guests?”

Simo was starting to look deeply uncomfortable, his hands wringing. “Well, yes, ideally that would be the case. But, well, it’s a ball. There will be many couples attending, and many couples, ah, forming. They will need someplace to spend private time, even if that means sacrificing some security. The alternative could get… frought.”

Frosta frowned. “What could they possibly need to do so badly that they need private rooms for it? Other than use the restrooms, obviously?”

“Ah. Well.” The decorator was a most curious shade of red. “Things like, well, kiss, and similar… things… Passions run high at a ball, you see.”

“How could going off somewhere to kiss possibly be important enough to drag guests away from the networking opportunities of the ball, and important enough to justify us making a dedicated space for it?”

“It, er, uh… Ah!” Simo’s face lit up as he realized something. “Your mother! She was the one to put the policy in place during large events. She was quite an ardent supporter of maintaining private spaces. We should follow with tradition, don’t you agree?”

Frosta glared icy daggers through the man (for a moment, she was tempted to do so literally). After a moment, she sighed, shoulders sagging, and with a gesture, the designated walls grew cloudy with uneven frost. “Fine. I still don’t see what the big deal about kissing is. Can people seriously not wait until they get home?” Her entire life, she’d been told to maintain control of herself; it was endlessly frustrating that adults apparently had no such rule applied to them.

Simo gave her one of those patronizing looks she was so used to getting when an adult knew something she didn’t, fueled by the unconscious desire to have some kind of power over the child-princess. “You’ll understand when you’re older, your majesty.”

Frosta doubted it.

(A few months and a ruined party later, Frosta was in her quarters when a message arrived from Bright Moon. The last great kingdom holding off the Horde was in peril. Her advisors told her to ignore it. They pointed out how her parents had pursued strict neutrality in the war.

Frosta left. She was sick of people telling her how her parents would rule. She was going to be her own princess. And if that meant venting some of her rage on Horde robots, well, that was just a bonus.

She still didn’t see what was so exciting about kissing.)

**Fourteen**

Frosta laughed as the ground rushed up at her, only for her fall to be interrupted by Scorpia’s massive claws. She’d seen those pincers sheer through hardened steel and shatter bone, but she’d also seen them delicately hold a flower to smiling lips, and now they held her as Scorpia spun her around. Where once those claws had been a source of fear, now they represented safety and warmth and love of a dear friend returned.

Frosta reached up, wrapping her arms around Scorpia’s broad shoulders. “I still can’t believe this is real. That it’s finally over.”

“Me too, little buddy,” Scorpia said, holding her tight (but not too tight; Scorpia was always good about that).

Soft footsteps approach them, and Scorpia stiffened. Frosta looked up and followed her gaze to see Perfuma, smiling nervously, bronze skin warm and blonde hair glowing in the low light of the bonfire that lit the victory party. “Hello! I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Of course not,” Scorpia said, lowering Frosta to the ground. She reached out an arm in invitation, and Perfuma slipped in, hugging Scorpia tight around the middle. “I’m still so happy to be here with you again,” the larger princess said softly.

A sharp spike of awkwardness shot through Frosta. She knew a private moment when she saw one, and the feeling of being a third wheel was impossible to ignore. She quickly slipped out from under Scorpia’s arm. “I’m going to go see how everyone else is doing. You two should catch up. Woo, victory!” She grinned, pumping her arms in the air; Scorpia and Perfuma giggled, each mimicking the gesture with their free hands before turning to each other and their private moment.

Not a pairing Frosta would have guessed at, she mused as she walked through the soft green clover that had sprung up from She-Ra’s power hours earlier. But she’d seen how Scorpia’s absence affected Perfuma after their mission to the Enchanted Grotto. 

She… sort of got it? Scorpia was great, once she’d been de-Horded. Perfuma was also fine, though Frosta didn’t understand her pacifistic impulses. Frosta could understand why the two princesses would be friends; she wanted to be friends with both of them too, after all. But beyond that…

A quick glance back, and Perfuma was curled tightly into Scorpia’s side, giggling at something, her hands gently running over the smooth carapace of Scorpia’s pincers.

That part, Frosta still didn’t get at all.

The party seemed to be winding down. The bonfire was getting low, tended by Netossa and Spinnerella, the latter still resting her ankle. The raucous music some civilians had been playing had fallen silent; now, only a single lyre player plucked at their strings as the other musicians rested. They shot occasional nervous glances to a group of Horde clones off to one side, who for their part seemed mostly stunned and shell-shocked as Wrong Hordak regailed them with stories of life away from Prime. Other Etherians were settling in to rest, friends and families put at odd by Prime’s chips speaking quietly now that they’d burned themselves out on more exuberant celebrations.

Now that she was primed to see it, Frosta could see people paired off everywhere. Glimmer and Bow were curled up close together, forehead pressed to forehead, whispering softly; next to them, Adora was dead asleep, with Catra on her chest clinging tightly to her shirt. Mermista slept with her head resting in Sea Hawk’s lap, an expression of reverent awe on his face as he ran his fingers through her blue hair. In the distance, Frosta caught Entrapta’s sharp laugh as the mechanist led Hordak into the new-grown shrubbery, and hoo boy did Frosta not have anywhere near enough energy to start processing that.

She pulled her coat in tighter around her as she walked away from the fire, the chill of the night finally starting to set in. Not that the pathetic “cold” of temperate Etheria bothered Frosta, of course. But… Well. It felt weird to be the only one not seeking out snuggly embraces. So she walked on, with only herself for company.

“Hey kiddo, coin for your thoughts?”

Herself and a greying, weirdly muscular sorcerer-king.

She glanced up at Micah’s warm face, lit now more by the light of the moons than the fire. “Just a coin? Hate to tell you this, but prices have gone up since your time. Inflation, y’know?”

“I got a glance at Bright Moon’s books before we had to abandon the palace. Believe me, I know.” Micah gave an exaggerated shudder, and Frosta couldn’t help herself from smiling a little. He continued, “Seriously, though, you seem… thoughtful. Why aren’t you back celebrating with the rest of the group?”

Frosta shrugged, pulling her coat tighter around her. “There’s not really a group anymore. Just… a lot of pairs.” She shot a look up at the king-father. “I bet it’s the same reason you’re not talking with Glimmer right now.”

Micah threw an awkward glance over his shoulder, to where Bow and Glimmer were still embraced. “Okay, fair point.” He turned back, pointedly looking up at the sky. “Well, it’s a good night for stargazing anyway. Mind if I join you?”

“Sure.” 

They walked in silence for a minute, taking in the rich greenery that covered the former battlefield and the glimmering starlight overhead, before Frosta spoke again. “I’m glad you’re back. Y’know, without a chip.”

“I am too.” Micah put a hand to his neck, a gesture that Frosta had already noticed was common among the formerly-chipped. He quickly continued before she could ask more about it. “It must be a little rough for you, huh? Not having any kids around your own age around, I mean.”

“It was fine for a while,” Frosta said. “Glimmer’s my best friend, and the rest of the princesses are great. I dunno about some of our new… allies… but I guess it worked out? I just…” She waved her hands in frustration. “I don’t get why everyone needs to pair up all of a sudden.”

“Big battles have a way of making people understand what’s important to them. When you know you might not live to see the other side… Well, you say what you need to say to the people you love.” Micah looked up at the starlit sky. “I remember before my last big battle, Angella and I stayed up all night just… talking. Saying things we hadn’t said in years of marriage.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Frosta spied a small rock sticking out from the grass, and with a quick gesture, a small spike of ice popped it out of the ground and she gave it a kick. The rock landed a few feet in a way with a soft ‘plop’. “I just don’t like feeling left out.”

“That’s fair. That’s where being your age gets rough.” Micah smiled down at her. “There must be someone, right? Some cute youngster you know from the Kingdom of Snows, or that you met in the war?”

“I met plenty of people, but not anyone I’d describe as cute,” Frosta said, face scrunching up. Well, Flutterina had been ‘cute’ the way little kids are cute, but that wasn’t what Micah meant. And Flutterina had turned out to be a fake person created as a spy to infiltrate the Princess Alliance, so. Not cute. “I don’t really get the whole… kissy-face thing.”

“That makes sense; you’re still young,” Micah said wisely, then came to a sudden halt. When Frosta turned to look at him, his eyes were wide, raw terror starting to creep into his expression. “You, uh… you know about the birds and the bees, right?”

Frosta gave him a blank look. “Huh? I know what birds and bees are, but I don’t know what they have to do with anything.”

“Wow. Okay, I expected to have to give this talk to Glimmer someday, but she’s grown up now and you need it instead, so here we go. So when two people care about each other very deeply, and decide they want to take their relationship somewhere new—”

“Wait, hang on,” Frosta said, holding up a hand to stop him. “Are you talking about sex? I know what sex is. I do have tutors, you know.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Micah said, releasing a breath and letting his shoulders sag. “Sorry, I did… not want to have to get into that.”

“Glad to spare you the embarrassment,” Frosta said. “I mean what I said, though. I know about it, but I don’t… get it. The whole thing seems weird and gross and uncomfortable.”

“You mean sex? Well, it can be at first—”

“No!” Frosta paused. “Well, also yes, but holy crap am I not even thinking about that right now. I just mean like...” She gestured vaguely back at the camp. “Kissing. Cuddling. All that stuff. Spit is gross. My arm falls asleep if I lie on it for too long, let alone someone else. How do people handle all the sweatiness?” She pointedly tugged at her coat. “I get warm pretty easily, y’know. I just don’t get the appeal. It’s a lot of work for something that seems kinda boring.”

Micah laughed softly. “You know, that’s all fair. You’re not wrong; it can get pretty uncomfortable. And that’s not even the worst of it. Your lips get sore and chapped after a while, you get dehydrated, you never know who snores until you’ve shared a room with them...” He paused, leaning against a tree. “But it’s all worth it, if it means being close to someone you care deeply about. I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but when you’re actually there with someone you love… Well. You learn to put up with the discomfort.”

Frosta made a face. “I guess? Ugh. Still seems gross.”

“I’m sure you’ll feel different when you’re older,” Micah said, and he had That Look on his face. The smug look every adult got when they were sure they knew Frosta better than she knew herself.

Frosta shut down, her face going blank, the same carefully neutral expression she’d cultivated in years at court. “Sure. I’m going to go find a place to sleep. We have work to do in the morning.”

Micah looked surprised at her sudden shift in body language. “Uh, sure. Let me walk you back to—”

“I will be fine, thank you.” Frosta turned away from him, toward the faint glow on the horizon from the dying bonfire. She’d long since mastered a walking pace that was both stately and swift, making up for her short legs.

She wasn’t really interested in talking to Micah anymore.

**Eighteen**

Ice groaned and creaked as it stretched out into position, faint shimmers of irregularities in the crystal marking where new slabs would meet the current structure. Pillars shot out small flying buttresses to support the new floor, some of which would fall away when Frosta made the next section. For now, they kept the floor level as she double checked the fit and shape, feeling out where the ice was carrying too much stress and making adjustments that were invisible to the naked eye, but would add ten years or more to the longevity of the structure without magical intervention.

The work was a welcome distraction from Mermista’s whining.

“...So he was sitting there, chewing on caviar with his big stupid open mouth like some kind of ogre, when the dignitary from Seaworthy said something that wasn’t even that funny! But there he is, laughing his butt off, and he spews half-chewed fish eggs and crackers all over the ambassador! It was sooooo embarrassing.”

“Uh-huh, that’s rough,” Frosta said distractedly. “So that’s why you broke up with him this time? Because of a diplomatic faux pas?”

“No, because then he started trying to clean up the dignitary, getting his napkin all over their chest and… other places… and they got, like, WAY too into it. So if he wants to go feeling up other people, he can do that on his own time, and I don’t need to stick around to watch it.”

Frosta rolled her eyes before making one last quick adjustment and setting the ice in place. By her count, Mermista and Sea Hawk had broken up six times in the four years since the end of the war, then gotten back together each time. She had no reason to expect this breakup to stick any more than the last few. “So why did you come all the way out here? I thought you didn’t like the cold.”

“It’s… fine...” Mermista said, pulling her thick coat tighter around herself. Her gritted teeth and closed body language couldn’t entirely hide her shivering. “I heard about your school opening thingy, and I thought you could, like, use some help with that. Y’know, grace everyone with the presence of two princesses.”

“Sure.” Translation: All of the other princesses were sick of hosting a mopey Mermista and/or Sea Hawk, leaving the Kingdom of Snows as the last resort. Well, this was generally accepted as one of the prices of continued membership in the Princess Alliance, so Frosta supposed it was time to pay her dues. Besides, Mermista wasn’t wrong about the school opening. Securing a guest had made Frosta’s advisors finally stop pestering her about finding an ‘escort’ to the ceremony. As though she weren’t a decorated war veteran and a full adult.

Speaking of the ceremony. One of her attachés made an appearance, bowing as he shuffled into the construction site. “Princesses. It’s time.”

“Thanks, Eiven,” Frosta said, and offered her arm to her friend with a smirk. “Princess Mermista, if you would do me the honor?”

Mermista scoffed and rolled her eyes, but slipped her hand through the crook of Frosta’s elbow and started the hike with her to the administration hall.

The University of Snows was still getting built up, though enough of it had been completed to welcome an inaugural class of students. The building Frosta had just been working on would one day be a science laboratory, where some of the finest minds from Etheria would come to perform experiments best suited to the Kingdom’s chilly ambient temperatures. Other halls would be dedicated to frost magic, history, indoor agriculture, and other topics of unique interest to Frosta’s people. The university was an investment in a future that would be defined by the marriage between technology and magic, a future that threatened to leave the Kingdom of Snows behind if she didn’t encourage her people to engage with it.

Here in the north, even in the daylight of Etheria’s brightest moons, some of the brightest stars could be seen. Stars that were home to peoples who now knew about Etheria, and could be friends or rivals or something else altogether. Frosta refused to let her people go into this strange new future with their eyes closed. They wouldn’t be shut away like they had been under her parents’ rule.

The opening ceremony was being held outdoors, leading to a reception inside. A small crowd had already gathered, local politicians and new students and school staff (among them, several Horde clones, though their dazzling array of different aesthetic choices made it hard to tell they’d once ever been part of a hive mind). It went smoothly enough, with Frosta and Mermista both giving short speeches that were met with polite applause. A ribbon was cut, and there were impressed noises as Frosta’s magic carved the blank front entrance of the administration hall into a sturdy, well-decorated door in a matter of seconds. An hour after starting, the group moved indoors, and the truly difficult part of the opening ceremony began: Mingling.

“I still don’t get how you make it so warm in here without the whole building becoming, like, super melty,” Mermista grumbled as she shrugged off her coat, which an attendant took from her with a quick bow.

“A secret of Snowvian architecture,” Frosta said with a grin, proudly puffing out her chest. “A secret we’ll be teaching in our architectural classes.” The school of architecture was, honestly, the part of the university project that interested Frosta most. In the years since war’s end, she’d found herself full of energy and short on outlets without a war to fight. The best way to she’d found to deal with it was to raise buildings out of ice. It wasn’t just a matter of making something big; she was growing increasingly fascinated by the small details involved in ice building, and even started working on tying non-ice elements into her building, freezing steel rods into columns to give them greater strength or weaving ice with glass for stunning decorations.

Mermista’s eyes started to glaze over halfway through Frosta’s excited explanation of this as they fetched drinks from a roaming waiter. By the end, she was regarding Frosta with a mixed look of amusement and disbelief. “Wow. We have got to get you laid.”

Frosta barely managed to avoid choking on her drink. “What? What are you— What does sex have to do with anything?”

“You just told me you’re all wound up and short on outlets. You’ve been fixing it by making buildings, which is, like, cool, I guess? But most people resolve that kind of feeling by finding someone attractive and, y’know...” Mermista made a gesture with her free hand that Frosta couldn’t even begin to parse.

“So, wait...” Frosta was blessedly not prone to migraines, but if anything was going to give her one, this would be it. “Because I have something I’m excited about, I must need to have sex? That makes no sense.”

“Well, no, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just… I dunno, haven’t you put any thought into that kind of thing? Like, dating, and kissing, and… y’know, rocking the boat?” Again with an undecipherable gesture.

“No,” Frosta said with a scowl. “No I haven’t. I’ve been busy running a kingdom, in case you hadn’t noticed. Instead of swanning off to the end of the world because I’m mad at some boy.”

“Okay, first, rude. I do not ‘swan’, I ‘make a dramatic departure’. Second, it’s important to, like, strike a balance, y’know? Glimmer makes time for Bow, Scorpia and Perfuma basically trade which kingdom they’re staying in, Entrapta...” Mermista paused. “Okay, I try not to think about what Entrapta gets up to in her creepy castle with all the Hordak clones. The point is, you need to make time for yourself outside of ruling, to connect with people.”

“My work-life balance is fine,” Frosta said. “I build; that _is_ making time for myself. I also travel to see my friends, and I study, and I lead patrols. I went on one of Adora’s space expeditions last year! It was super cool! I don’t know why you’re getting on my butt about this!”

Mermista held up a hand in a peacable gesture. “All right, all right, jeez, you’re doing fine. Sure. Go Frosta, woo.” She took a sip of her drink, looking around the room. “...Still think you could do with getting laid, though. Or just, I dunno, dating a little. I mean, look around. A lot of these college kids are your age, right? There must be someone here you’re into.”

Frosta rolled her eyes, and grudgingly started looking around. The students were mostly Snowvian, but a solid third came from various places across Etheria. Mushroom people, satyrs, fishfolk, lizardfolk, cat people, elves, mothlings… A diverse assemblage of people of all shapes and sizes. Based on the way a few carried themselves and the scars they bore, Frosta guessed a few had even been part of the Rebellion.

A lot of them were stealing glances at Frosta and Mermista, giving them awkward smiles before whispering to each other. Not surprising; few people actually got to see princesses in person.

“So?” Mermista leaned down for a conspiratorial whisper. “Anyone jump out at you? How about that buff lady over there?”

“Eh. I wouldn’t mind some workout tips, but nothing beyond that.”

“Okay, the short guy making a joke? He seems friendly.”

“He’s… fine. Laugh is kinda annoying.”

“...Elegant lady in the dress? I think she’s giving you a look.”

“It’s a nice dress, I guess. Too much jewelry, though it’s gaudy.”

“Tall guy with a mustache?”

“That’s what you’re into, Mermista.”

“Fine then.” The Salinean princess rolled her eyes. “What are you into then? What kind of person do you think is hot?”

“I...” Frosta looked around the room. Thought about it. Sipped her glass. Thought about it more. Took another look around.

She shrugged. “No one, really. I just don’t think about that kind of thing.”

Mermista gave her a look of complete bafflement. “...Okay then. You do you, I guess? I mean, if you’re not getting anyone else to do you.” She finished off her drink in one gulp, setting it on a passing waiter’s tray. “I, meanwhile, am newly single, and thirty, flirty, and thriving. I’m going to go mingle. You should too.”

“I’ll do my duties as a princess. I’m not looking for someone to date.”

“Sure, sure. Just keep an open mind. Maybe you’ll feel different when you’re older.”

That phrase was starting to give Frosta more war flashbacks than the actual war. “Maybe,” she said noncommittally, before Mermista swanned off (and it was definitely swanning).

Dating. Why was everyone in the world obsessed with dating?

...Why wasn’t she?

**Twenty-One**

One advantage of membership in the Princess Alliance was that members could rapidly teleport across Etheria by sending Glimmer a message. The queen’s control over her magic was such that she could get to the requesting princess, then to her friend’s destination, and finally back to her origin in seconds. It was still a distraction for Glimmer, and Frosta had gotten a talking-to about abusing the system in her younger, more foolish years. Which might have been why Frosta was almost over-cautious about asking for “rides” now.

Of course, with the Princess Prom the next day, Glimmer would be particularly busy. Hence why Frosta went ahead and arrived at their destination a day early. The trip provided two extra valuable opportunities. First, Frosta was able to help with the decorations, which was always fun to do alongside Perfuma; between the two of them, Horror Hall absolutely failed to live up to its name, the ballroom decorated with a riotous array of flowers and lit by icy mirrors refracting rainbow-colored moonlight into the secluded hall.

Second, it gave her a chance to visit her new favorite person: Flora.

Huge brown eyes looked up at her from under white bangs, marveling at the frost that crawled and danced over Frosta’s fingers. A tiny scorpion tail waggled in time with her hand movements, and little fingers reached up to grasp. Flora gasped and giggled as Frosta let the frost flicker over the baby’s fingertips, before dispelling it with a flick.

“You know, back when we first met, I would not have figured you for someone good with kids,” Scorpia said with a grin from her position lying on a nearby sofa. They were getting a much-needed respite from prom preparations; a set of vines near the door was ready to detain either princess if they tried to leave before Perfuma judged they’d had enough of a break.

“Back when we first met, I was busy making sure no one killed each other at the prom. And then you blew up my palace.”

“Oh. Right. Heh. Yeah.” Scorpia rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly with a pincer. “Sorry about that.”

Frosta smiled up at her friend. “It’s been ten years; it’s fine. Besides, the place needed some remodeling anyway.”

The years had been kind to Scorpia. She was softer now, no longer forced to maintain a soldier’s physique, but still broad-shouldered and strong. Her hair was a little longer now, her clothing looser and more comfortable. Most distinct, though, was how she carried herself. This Scorpia moved loosely, with confidence and surety. She was no longer the one kind face in a sea of ferocious warriors. She could be herself, huggy and kind, with laugh-lines forming at the corners of her eyes.

She looked like a mom. And somewhere, deep in Frosta’s heart, was a pang for the distant memory of a mother lost so long ago.

Frosta reached into the crib, scooping up Flora, who giggled and curled into the young woman’s chest. She stepped over and sat on the sofa next to Scorpia, who smiled with delight at her daughter. Pincers strong enough to pierce tank armor reached out, ever-so-tenderly booping Flora’s nose, eliciting another giggle and a grab from tiny baby hands.

Frosta readjusted herself so it was easier for Scorpia to play with Flora. “It must be tough, getting ready for the prom while taking care of the baby,” she said softly, looking up at the bags under Scorpia’s eyes.

“Oh no, it’s fine! I’m okay. It’s...” Scorpia paused. “Okay, yeah, it’s kinda rough. Perfuma’s been so good about helping out though, you know? She’s been helping with managing the kingdoms, and arranging everything, and she’s so sweet with Flora—I mean, obviously, she’s sweet with everyone, of course she’d be sweet with her daughter. All the other princesses have been great, too. Thanks again for stopping by to help with the decoration, by the way. I know Perfuma appreciates it.”

“Of course. I remember how hard setting up for one of these things is, and I didn’t even do the work for most of it.”

“Do you… Do you think the Fright Zone is ready?” Scorpia’s face grew serious, even as she gently played tug-of-war with her daughter over her claw. “I know we’ve done so much to fix up the kingdom and make it… y’know, less Hordey. But I’m still worried. The whole planet’s watching us now. Are we ready for Etheria to really see us?”

Frosta smiled, shifting Flora to one arm and reaching over to rest a hand on a carapaced shoulder. “I think so. The world’s going to look at you, and see what I see: Good friends, and a great party.”

“Awww.” Scorpia gave her one of those big, guileless grins that Frosta always found so sweet. Then her tail swooped out, wrapping around Frosta’s waist and pulling her in for a tight hug. “You’re just so sweet!”

“Hey, careful, don’t squish the baby!” Frosta said with a giggle, turning to keep Flora out of the press. At Scorpia’s urging, she surrendered the baby, who curled up against her mother’s chest with a wide yawn.

“It’s still hard to believe she’s real sometimes,” Scorpia said, eyes sparkling. “That I was able to help making someone so… perfect.”

“I mean, it makes sense to me, with who her parents are.”

“Good point. Perfuma’s the best, and I’m pretty great too.”

“Yeah you are!”

Scorpia grinned up at Frosta. “So by that logic, your kids are going to be real powerhouses, huh?”

There was a moment of silence as the northern princess stiffened, eyes wide. Twenty-one years of grappling with this very topic hit her like an icy fist.

Scorpia’s eyes flickered awkwardly back and forth between Flora and Frosta. “Uh. Did I say something wrong?”

“Uh. I… don’t think I’m going to have kids,” Frosta said carefully. It was something she’d always known, but it was her first time saying the words out loud.

“Oh!” Her host’s face immediately filled with concern. “Is this a health thing? I bet Perfuma and Entrapta could make some kind of medicine, or She-Ra’s healing powers could—”

“What? No, I’m fine, Scorpia. I just don’t want kids. Never really have.” She hestitated a moment. “Is… is that weird?”

“I… don’t think I get to say what’s weird and what isn’t,” Scorpia answered slowly. “Sometimes I still have moments where I say or do something, and people give me weird looks, and I go, ‘Oh hey, that was a Horde thing!’ Like getting into arguments about brown versus grey rations, or thinking it’s normal to shower with other people. Maybe this is like that?”

“Maybe. I dunno, everyone else seems to think having kids is just the thing you do. Glimmer said she and Bow were talking about it, and Mermista’s expecting now.” Frosta gave her friend a weak smile. “I blame you. Everyone saw how cute Flora is, and now they’ve got babies on the brain.”

“I cannot be held accountable for my daughter’s cuteness.”

“She’s literally half made of you.”

“...I can be held accountable for half of my daughter’s cuteness.”

“I guess that’s fair.” Frosta sat back, looking up at the potted plants that dangled from the nursery ceiling by wires. “How did you know you wanted to be a mom?”

“I’m… not sure.” Scorpia regarded Flora contemplatively, a pincer tip brushing a bit of lock of white hair out of the baby’s face. “I kinda… always knew? When I was little, my squadmates and I would play ‘drill sergeant’, where we pretended we were training younger cadets. Perfuma tells me that most of Etheria calls something like that ‘playing house’. I was real excited at the idea of having kids, being a mom like the ones in my picture. The Horde was kinda neutral on parenthood; it took a soldier out of the fight for a while, but it also got the Horde a new recruit in the long run, so it was sort of a wash.” Scorpia grimaced, holding Flora a little tighter to her chest. “But even when I was at my most loyal to the Horde, I… did not like the idea of giving up my kids to be soldiers.” Her face brightened, and she smiled up at Frosta. “But then I left the Horde! I joined you guys, and I met Perfuma, and we won the war, and Perfuma and I got married… At that point, it was just a matter of trying once we were both ready, y’know? And now we have Flora, and she’s perfect.”

“That’s beautiful, Scorpia, and I’m happy you got there,” Frosta said with a smile. “I… never really felt any of that. I remember kids my age playing house, but I didn’t really care. I was busy learning etiquette and politics and princess stuff. Then my parents died, and I was in charge—kinda, my advisors did most of the actual ruling for a long time. And I just… never got around to wanting kids the way everyone else seemed to.”

“Huh.” Scorpia was quiet for a moment, still playing with Flora. “What does your government think about, y’know, you not having kids?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. They’re trying to be subtle about trying to set me up with an ‘appropriate match’, and I’m not looking forward to them getting into ‘securing the succession’,” Frosta said, adding finger quotes where appropriate. “I’ll probably just formally adopt someone competent when I’m older. I heard some of the new kingdoms pick their leaders by voting for them; maybe I’ll have the Snowvians do that to pick their heir.” She paused and smiled, reaching out to ruffle Flora’s hair. “Or maybe I’ll just leave it all to this one.”

“Please don’t. She doesn’t like the cold. Besides, me and Perfuma are already getting headaches figuring out how Plumeria and the Fright Zone are going to be passed down. It’s not the only reason we’re considering having a second kid, but it’s definitely part of the conversation.”

“Good point. She’ll probably have her hands full connecting to the Black Garnet or the Heart-Blossom, anyway, without adding the Fractal Flake to the mix.” Frosta leaned in, letting Flora get a good grip on her finger. “Her very strong little hands.”

“Oh yeah, she may not have gotten my pincers, but she’s got my grip strength,” Scorpia said with a grin. She looked up at Frosta, considering her contemplatively. “I’m gonna be honest, I don’t entirely understand how you feel about this. The idea of being a mom always excited me, and making it come true has easily been the best thing to ever happen to me. But you know you better than anyone, right? And if that’s not what you want...” She shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe you’ll feel different when you’re older. But if you don’t… just know that I support you, all right? If your advisors start giving you guff, I’ll give ‘em a good, stern talking-to.”

“When I’m older...” Frosta smiled faintly. The old refrain didn’t sting so badly coming from her friend. “Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Scorpia. I appreciate it.” With a deep breath, she pushed her face into an enthusiastic grin. “In the meantime, I’ll just have to settle for being the cool aunt to Flora.”

“The coolest on Etheria! And not just because of the ice powers,” Scorpia said with a laugh, prompting Frosta to groan and give her a light slap on the shoulder plate. Flora joined her mother in giggling.

Then there was a gurgle. A toot. And an odor.

“Uh-oh, diaper change time,” Scorpia said, rising from her seat and stretching her back. “Time to get you to a nanny, little one.”

“You don’t change her diapers?” Frosta asked as she stood. “Too important for that?”

“I would if I could, but y’know.” Scorpia held up a pincer. “Manual dexterity isn’t really my thing. C’mon, time to let someone handle this stinky baby while we get back to work.”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Frosta started toward the exit, then stopped.

“...Just as soon as we get Perfuma to call off the vines.”

**Forty-One**

This was Frosta’s fourth Princess Prom, but she still couldn’t help but be a little uneasy as she took her place in line. Oddly, the buzzing nerves of all the younger people chatting and whispering around her helped give her a sense of calm. They were on edge because it was their first such celebration, their introduction to the world of royal socialization. It felt silly to be antsy when she was such an old hand at this.

Even more comforting, though, was when she got to the front of the line and bowed before her dearest friend. Hold for one, two, three… She straightened and smiled. “Greetings, Queen Glimmer. This is a rare privilege. I feel like it’s been many years since I last saw you.”

“Is this about me canceling our iceball game last week? I told you I was sorry,” Glimmer said with a laugh as she stepped forward and embraced Frosta.

“It’s probably for the best,” Frosta said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s just so hard for me to keep up with a young’n like you anymore.”

“Hey, I’m still older than you, and I’m not afraid to pull rank, missy,” Glimmer answered. In truth, Frosta’s words weren’t far off. Glimmer had barely aged a day in the last twenty years. Amazing what an angelic heritage could do when it came to aging gracefully. Frosta, meanwhile, had more than one snow-white streak in her dark blue hair, and she felt her age in her back from the extended bow.

She took a step aside so the next guest could greet Glimmer, taking a moment to smile and talk with Bow and Micah, who flanked the throne as a show of support to the queen. If Frosta was feeling her age, Micah looked like a proper wizard, with his long white hair and pepper-flaked beard. Next she went to Adora and Catra, where the three shared a laugh as they recalled stories about their first Princess Prom (Frosta had… mostly forgiven Catra for blowing up her palace), and then—

A quick “Look out!” from Adora gave Frosta just enough time to brace herself as a cannonball with gangly arms and a puff of unruly blonde hair slammed into her, wrapping her in a tight hug. 

“Aunt Frosta!” Finn cried out, lifting her off the ground.

“Nice to see you too, kid,” she wheezed, something in her back popping. As her boots returned to the ground, she grinned and returned her pseudo-nibling’s hug. “It’s just not fair how tall all you kids have gotten.”

“Really? I think I’m kinda short. I mean, have you seen Flora lately?” Finn asked with a grin. They held up a hand a bit above their head, accompanied by an impressed whistle.

“Given who her mothers were, I’m not surprised,” Catra said with an easy smile, reaching out to run claws through her child’s hair. Finn put up an obligatory fuss, a purr from their chest betryaing how they enjoyed Catra’s attempt fix their ever-untamable hair.

“Any plus-ones this time?” Adora asked Frosta, thought it was clear her attention was mostly on her wife and child.

“I brought one of the up-and-coming ministers in my government,” Frosta said. “He showed a bit of connection to the Fractal Flake, so I figured he might be worth sponsoring as a successor. I’ll let him mingle and see how he does with the crowd.” She paused, then leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper, “There’s a minor prince who seems to have caught his attention, so I’m letting them come in together. Give them a little alone time, you know.”

“And use gossip about them to make sure no one’s paying attention to you,” Adora said with a smile and a wink. “Clever.”

Frosta grinned and tapped her nose, before drifting off to ‘mingle’—or, more accurately, go fetch a drink. She was waylaid by more of her friends, who insisted on introducing her to some newer princes and princesses whose names she immediately forgot. Finally, she got to the salvation of the refreshments table, and happily laid into some Bright Moon delicacies.

“Um, excuse me?” a quiet voice came from behind her. “Are you Princess Frosta?”

“Hmm?” Frosta turned, her mouth half-full of deviled egg. She had just enough grace to swallow before answering, “Yes, I am. And who are you, dear?”

“My name is Idaria,” the young woman said with a curtsy. Idaria looked like she came from around Elberon, with the noseless face, frilled ears, and translucent wings of the mothlings there. She wore a pale green dress that complemented her dark red skin, and her black hair was braided with a string of shimmering crystals. She seemed to be in her mid twenties, if Frosta had to guess.

“Well, aren’t you a sight, Idaria,” Frosta said politely. “And what brings you to the Prom?”

“I was recently elected as the princess of New Thambaria,” Idaria answered, fiddling nervously with the glass in her hand. “So I’m here representing my people. We… we owe you a great debt. Thank you.”

“Not at all, I just one part of a greater effort.” New Thambaria was one of the young kingdoms carved out of the former Horde territory, a vibrant melting pot of peoples excited to try new ways of building a society. Part of that included electing a new prince or princess every few years. “Congratulations on your title, by the way.”

“Ah, thank you,” Idaria said. She smiled earnestly. “That… actually, I really do owe you thanks for that. Part of why I felt able to run was because of what I learned at the University of Snows.”

“Oh!” Frosta’s face it up. This was no longer an obligatory interaction with a stranger, this was something she cared about. “I’m delighted to meet an alumna. Go Bears!”

“Go Bears!” Idaria answered with a giggle. “Truthfully… I hope this doesn’t sound strange, but I’ve always admired you. Not just for your part in the war, but for your works since. The artistry that went into the university and the other buildings you’ve constructed are… breathtaking.”

“Well now.” Frosta grinned. “I’m always open to a bit of flattery. Were you an architecture student?”

“Not exactly. I majored in civic engineering. So I spent a lot of time with the architecture students, and I’ve worked with architects ever since. So I basically know just enough to appreciate good building when I see it.”

“Or just enough to be dangerous.” Frosta winked.

Idaria giggled again, then looked down into her drink with a small, wistful smile. “That’s not the only thing I admire about you. I followed your career for personal reasons, too.”

“Hmm.” Frosta shuffled awkwardly, running a hand through her hair. This part of dealing with her public presence never got easier. “Ah, I think I need to head you off. I’m flattered, but we just met, and there’s an age difference, and—”

“Oh! No! Nonono!” Idaria flew into a panic of shaking her head and gesturing wildly to dispel Frosta’s notion, her drink sloshing out of its glass and splattering on the tile floor. “Nothing like that! If anything, the opposite! You see, I’m like you!”

“Like me?” Now Frosta was intrigued, as she passed napkins over to Idaria to clean up the spill.

“Well, maybe. Sort of. You… well, you’re pretty well known for never having a romantic relationship. No consort, no suitors, no children. There are a lot of rumors about it, but the one I’ve always believed—maybe that I just wanted to believe—is that it’s because you just aren’t interested. That you never wanted romance in your life. Is that right?”

“...More or less. Though I can’t say I’m delighted by people gossiping about my lack of a love life.” What was the point of being friends with a bunch of horny princesses if they didn’t pull public attention away from her?

“I totally get that. But… Well, it was always kind of an inspiration for me. When everyone else was starting to get interested in dating and kissing and stuff, I just wasn’t.” Idaria passed the dirty napkin off to a passing servant with a muttered apology. “I always thought I was a weirdo, right? Like something was… wrong with me. Something broken. Everyone kept telling me I’d feel different when I was older, like they knew me better than I did...” She gave Frosta a shy smile. “That must sound a little pathetic, huh?”

“No.” To her surprise, Frosta’s throat was getting tight, and she took a drink in an attempt to clear it. “It doesn’t sound pathetic at all.”

“It helped me, knowing that there was someone else out there like me. Out being a war hero, and an architect, and a princess, and… well, everything else you’ve done, without feeling a need to go find a romantic partner too. It was nice to know that I wasn’t alone.”

“I’m glad that I could be helpful to you,” Frosta said. And she was telling the truth. In all the years she had spent feeling like a stranger on her own homeworld while everyone else concerned themselves with sex and romance, it had never occurred to her that someone else might feel the same. That someone else might find comfort in her experiences.

She tried to imagine what her life would have been like if someone like her had been a prominent part of the Princess Alliance. She honestly couldn’t fathom it.

“More than helpful. An inspiration.” Idaria smiled warmly at her. “When I was elected, I swore that I would do my best to follow in your foosteps. To be strong for my people when they needed it, but also kind. A defender, and also a builder. I just… I just hope I can be like you, when I’m older.”

“Hmm.” Frosta considered that for a moment, before saying, “May I offer a word of advice?”

“Of course!”

“Don’t try to be like me. Be like Idaria. I’ve only just met her, but she seems like a good girl. And when you’re older… you’ll be the woman you were meant to be. A woman I’m sure who will leave a great mark on the world.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Idaria answered, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll remember your words.”

Frosta took a look around the ballroom. Couples danced and laughed. Finn and Flora chased each other across the floor, laughing as their parents fussed and tried to keep them from bumping into anyone. A bevy of Horde clones, eyes fading to orange with age, hobnobbed with aliens and elected royalty and government officials.

What an extraordinary world they’d built.

“Let’s walk and talk, shall we?” Frosta suggested, offering an arm that Idaria took with visible excitement. “I’ve love to hear more about New Thambaria, and what your plans are as princess.”

“It’d be my pleasure, Princess Frosta.”

(A few weeks after the Prom, Frosta sat down for an interview, the first where she talked about her personal life. She described her disinterest in romance and sex, and how it had always made her feel strange and alien.

Letters poured in from across Etheria, thanking her for her words. People described their own lives, their feelings, and how it felt for one of Etheria’s most prominent princesses to come out about her experiences.

She started writing back, and hosting meet-ups, and slowly she crafted a community where people like her could meet and share their experiences and slowly internalize that there was nothing wrong with them.

Frosta never had children of her own. But those who wrote to her, reaching out into the darkness for someone who felt the way they did?

They filled the spot well enough.)

**Author's Note:**

> There's a timeline where I don't portray Frosta as ace/aro, where instead she laments the loss of her burgeoning crush on Flutterina and resents Double Trouble for giving her hope of being able to work with someone her age. Just... puttin' that energy out into the universe.


End file.
